


velveteen

by radovanryn



Series: The Company Man [5]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Kiss, Identity Issues, M/M, Minor Character Death, Role Reversal, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-19 06:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22606876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radovanryn/pseuds/radovanryn
Summary: What does it mean to be “real?” [Master Isa AU, sequel to “Forget-Me-Not.” AkuSai roleswap]
Relationships: Axel/Saïx (Kingdom Hearts), Isa/Lea (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: The Company Man [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563040
Comments: 21
Kudos: 40
Collections: Keyblade Master Isa AU





	1. the new moon

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a (belated) birthday gift for Ari [thoughquaking](https://twitter.com/thoughquaking) who requested, quote, “angst angst angst angst.” Ari, I hope this delivers on your request! ;) Also, many thanks (as always) to Nic [Saïxbosom](https://twitter.com/Sa%C3%AFxbosom) for creating the Master Isa AU and letting us torture, I mean, _play_ with his brainchildren. (That’s also a PSA that you can direct all correspondence to Ari and Nic for the excessive amounts of angst you’re about to consume.)
> 
> This story is set after [”Forget-Me-Not”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22606441) and features “replisa” (replica Isa), aka Saïx. If you’re new to the Master Isa AU, I strongly recommend that you visit the [Master Isa AU](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/master_isa) fic collection here @ AO3, especially Ari’s brilliant [”the subtle grace of gravity.”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780879?view_full_work=true) To quickly summarize, in this “what if” AU Isa has a keyblade and was saved from becoming a Nobody, however Lea… wasn’t so fortunate. It’s been ten years and Isa has become a keyblade master and has dedicated himself to preparing his apprentices Riku, Sora, and Kairi for the coming battle against darkness, as well as rescuing Lea from the Organization’s grasps. Meanwhile, Axel believes that Isa left him to die all those years ago and has almost fully given into Xehanort’s manipulations—there’s just _something_ that’s keeping him from letting go.
> 
> Excerpts from “The Velveteen Rabbit (Or, How Toys Become Real)” by Margery Williams (1922). Access the full text online at <https://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/williams/rabbit/rabbit.html>.

_"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."_

_"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit._

_"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."_

_\-- The Velveteen Rabbit, Margery Williams_

* * *

White walls and porcelain floors—that is all the replica has ever known. Yet he _remembers_ so much more; bubbling fountains and bright sunshine, the fragrant scent of flowers in full bloom. He remembers himself, or rather his Other, younger and in love with a boy with bright red hair and a smile that practically radiated life and joy. Even now, he feels a pang of loss, an ache in his otherwise-empty chest. He _knows_ what it is that he is missing.

_Lea._

Number Six—Zexion—tells him that these memories are not his, nor do they belong to his Other. They are “echoes of a heart,” downloaded and absorbed by the replica as a byproduct of his creation. He is imperfect, Vexen—Number Four—adds. A flawed specimen, an experiment gone wrong. Naminé has done all she can, but her powers are limited.

A keyblade cannot be forged from echoes alone.

Inevitably, the scientists declare him a failure, but before he can be destroyed the Superior intervenes. Xemnas gives the replica a name— _Saïx_ —and offers him a place within the Organization’s ranks. “We number eleven, yet our count is twelve. Have you any idea why that is?” Xemnas asks, leading Saïx through one white corridor after another. Saïx has long since lost his way, and follows obediently. (Saïx thinks it pleases Xemnas to see him so meek.)

“No, sir,” he replies. “Zexion offered no explanation for the absence of Number Seven.” Xemnas pauses, and so too does Saïx. The Superior looks down upon him with an inscrutable gaze. Saïx remains impassive, as expressionless and empty as he was intended to be.

At last, Xemnas speaks. “The Organization exists to unravel the mysteries of the heart. Numbers Two through Six were once apprentices to Ansem the Wise, however they were impeded by his limited vision and feeble resolve. It was I who released their hearts, and thus the shackles of humanity which bound them.

“Nevertheless, they lack the strength to wield the keyblade, as did hundreds more who passed through the castle dungeons. Only two subjects proved worthy.” Memories, dark and painful, suddenly draw his attention inward. Saïx remembers chains and the searing ache of darkness, foreign and unnatural. He hears the faint echoes of screaming, but it is not his Other’s voice. It is Number Eight—Axel.

 _Lea_.

“Regrettably, we acted in haste,” Xemnas continues. “An old foe, a remnant barely clinging to existence, learned of the chosen and sought to bring them to our enemies. In the chaos that ensued, one of them—Number Seven—forged his keyblade.”

Even as he is beset with hellish memories, Saïx has managed to listen well enough to understand. “Isa. The keyblade’s chosen.” Xemnas nods. His Other, _the original_ , was Number Seven… or rather, should have been _._ “I do not understand. Why not name Axel Seven?”

“The keyblade master and Number Eight share an unwritten destiny, a bond from which a keyblade may be summoned. We unlocked the child’s heart, but to no avail. Xehanort has even shared his heart with Axel, but his destiny evades us still. It was this dilemma that led to your creation, for perhaps the key lay in the memory of that bond. Yet again, we have failed.”

The aching hollow in Saïx’s chest twists painfully as he realizes that his failure has greater consequences. Is it any wonder Axel despises him so? “Then why allow my existence to continue?” he asks. “Why offer me a place among you?” Rather than answer him, Xemnas makes a grand gesture that tears reality apart—a Dark Corridor, the first Saïx has ever seen. He follows Xemnas into the darkness, gritting his teeth against the invasive chill. They emerge on an elevated dias surrounded by a great, expansive nothingness. A pale light shines down on them from above, and when Saïx looks up he feels an unfathomable power wash over him. He is utterly transfixed.

“Behold, Kingdom Hearts.” Saïx’s body feels foreign to itself, numb and trembling. His mouth hangs open as he pants for breath. Everything is bright, _too bright_ , the world gone iridescent with moonlight. “The heart of all worlds. Your body is that of a keybearer. Your soul, a reflection of one who, too, would forge a blade. You are supplicant and servant of Kingdom Hearts, the extension of its will. How could I give to Axel what has always belonged to you?”

“It, it is…” Saïx cannot describe it. Since the moment he had first tried—and failed—to summon the keyblade, he has felt _it_ , an unknown entity haunting the edges of his consciousness. At first, he had thought it was _Lea_ calling out to him, but now Saïx understands—it is _Lea’s heart_ , nestled deep within the citrine moon, that beckons him. With its strength, with Kingdom Hearts, Saïx will be made real… and he will possess what is _rightfully_ his.

Shortly thereafter he is presented to the others. The collective weight of the Organization’s scrutiny does not affect Saïx in the slightest; deep in the bowels of the castle, he can still feel Kingdom Hearts’ light shining down. He meets each of their gazes without hesitation, however as he glances about the room Saïx notices Axel’s conspicuous absence.

“My friends,” Xemnas begins, deep and sonorous. “This is a truly momentous day, for what was missing has at last been found. Number Seven, the New Moon.” Saïx draws a shuddering breath as his title is proclaimed, and tastes an acrid bitterness in the back of his throat. Against the bright fluorescence of the Round Room a thick haze of smoke has filtered in.

Outside the castle, the city burns.

Saïx gives his first mission assignment before the meeting has even adjourned. Number Nine—Demyx—grumbles as he’s sent out to quell the flames, or as Number Two—Xigbar—puts it, “Get out there and hose Axel down.” Soon, Saïx is alone with Xigbar, who looks him up-and-down with blatant interest. “Saïx—that’s what we’re callin’ you, right?”

“That is my designation, yes.”

Xigbar laughs hollowly, and it sounds so different from the giddy giggles Saïx remembers from his _(Isa’s)_ childhood. “Man, it’s not just the looks, you even _sound_ like him. No wonder Red’s having a temper tantrum.” His words pain Saïx, a dagger in his chest as he is reminded of what he is missing. Not even Kingdom Hearts can soothe the ache, the emptiness where _Lea_ belongs.

“Hey, what’s with the long face?” Xigbar asks. The freeshooter wanders closer, too close. His aura is unnatural and Saïx tenses, an unconscious reaction to the _strangeness_ that clings to Xigbar like heavy perfume. “Just give it some time, and he’ll come around. Axel’s pretty _persuadable_ if you catch him at the right moment.”

Xigbar leaves before Saïx can ask him what he means, not that it matters. Saïx spends hours wandering the castle, familiarizing himself with its layout. In contrast to Castle Oblivion, with its ever-changing halls and endless white, this castle is refreshingly predictable. He steps out onto a balcony with walls naught but glass, Kingdom Hearts’ light cascading down. Saïx closes his eyes, and imagines he can hear its song, hundreds upon hundreds of hearts calling to him. He listens for one heart in particular, _bright_ and _blazing_. _Lea._

“Kingdom Hearts… Where is _my_ heart?” he asks, reaching out to the void.

Time passes, and soon Saïx is able to measure his existence in _weeks_ rather than _days_. Still, he has precious little to show for it—he is no more real to Axel than he was when the assassin first laid eyes on him. And since Axel is fire, dangerous and unpredictable, Saïx learns to keep to the shadows. When Axel burns brightest he does his best to remain unseen, as that is when the molten rage is fiercest. Saïx isn’t always successful, however, and the echoes of Axel’s more… _biting_ remarks haunt his thoughts and, increasingly, his dreams.

 _“Why should I take orders from Vexen’s plaything?” “Xemnas must be losing it if he thinks a cheap imitation like_ you _is worth anything.” “What, is your hearing as defective as the rest of you? Get lost already!”_

Instead, Saïx watches and waits for Axel’s more smoldering moods, when the faint stress lines around his eyes and lips appear most prominently and he moves listlessly, almost without purpose. Too tired to protest, Axel tolerates Saïx’s presence in those moments. Saïx treasures those rare occasions when things are as they _should_ be.

That is, until _they_ arrive.

From his lofty seat, Saïx stares in disbelief as Axel brings a small blonde boy before them. “Found him wanderin’ outside one of the old research facilities in Twilight Town,” Axel explains as Roxas—Number Thirteen—sways beside him, totally unresponsive, a keyblade in his hand. Saïx feels strange, feverish yet chilled, as the weapon he was created to possess is held by one so… miniscule. _So weak._

“What good is a keyblade wielder if he is barely conscious?” Saïx asks venomously. He has only existed for a handful of months, but in that time Axel has taught him to be cruel. From below, Axel smirks. The boy says nothing.

“Aw, what’s the matter, doll-face? Don’t tell me you’re _jealous_.” There is laughter all around Saïx—Demyx and Larxene are especially loud—as Axel adds, “He’s better than a defective prototype, don’t you think?”

No matter how heartless and spiteful Axel treats him, _nothing_ could have prepared Saïx for the devastation he feels when Vexen and Zexion announce their latest breakthrough: No. I, a replica created from the Key of Destiny that is _also_ able to wield the keyblade. Soon, the whispers begin. _Why keep the outdated model? What’s the point of having a glorified secretary? Are we keeping it around for spare parts?_

Axel fans the flames, openly flaunting his attachment to Numbers Thirteen and Fourteen—Xion, the puppet. He teaches them to be insubordinate and spoils them with treats and affection. Still worse, he pretends to care about them. Whenever the blonde boy or the featureless puppet are around, Axel smiles. He smiles like _Lea_ used to, but not for Saïx, _never for Saïx_.

“You’re letting yourself get too attached to them,” Saïx tells Axel on the eve of his extended assignment to Castle Oblivion. The Superior has ordered Numbers Eleven and Twelve to the castle as well, ostensibly to oversee the experiments still being carried out, but Saïx knows the truth. Hence, Axel’s mission. “They are a distraction. Why pretend otherwise?”

Sneering, Axel flings his arm toward the ever-growing Kingdom Hearts. “A distraction? Try _encouragement._ With every heart Roxas and Xion release, we are _that_ much closer to being real people again. Why not reward them for all their hard work? After all,” Axel smirks, “it’s not like _you_ lift a finger around here.”

“Did you forget, Axel, that the puppet is a replica as well?” Saïx crosses his arms, glaring as he adds, “Xion has no right to be among our number.” Saïx is no hypocrite; the rank he possesses is his own, meant for the Other he reflects. They are Thirteen, and have no need for redundant members, keyblade or no.

Clearly, Axel does not agree. “Xion is way more real than you could _ever_ be,” he snarls. Sparks dance around his fingers, and for a moment Saïx wonders if Axel will summon his chakrams. Instead, Number Eight spits contemptuously at his feet before storming off, ash and soot trailing in his wake. For several minutes, Saïx remains in place, shocked still. Kingdom Hearts’ cries are deafening, as if the moon shares his confused grief. This is not how things are meant to be.

“You have changed,” Saïx whispers. “Does the past… mean nothing to you?”

When news that Castle Oblivion is under siege arrives, Saïx takes solace in Kingdom Hearts. Axel has not faded, of that he is certain. Xemnas shares his uncharacteristic optimism, and commands Saïx to return to his birthplace and “ensure Xehanort’s vessel returns, unharmed and untainted.”

 _Untainted._ Saïx sneers at Roxas and the puppet as he stalks through the Grey Area, thoughts racing. Marluxia and Larxene are not the only threats, it seems; the keyblade master’s apprentices, Sora and Riku, are in the castle as well. Saïx knows it is only a matter of time until their erstwhile master comes for them, and shares Xemnas’s concern. _He_ is too great a temptation for Axel to resist. After all, from what Saïx has been able to glean from Zexion, he owes his existence to Axel’s stubborn infatuation with his Other. It’s bad enough that Axel has made himself vulnerable to Thirteen and Fourteen, but to lose him to the keyblade master?

_Never._

Castle Oblivion has fallen to ruin by the time Saïx arrives, its once-pristine hallways marred with blood and soot. The sickly perfume of wilted roses hangs in the air—the master of the castle is no more. The traitors have been eliminated, and better yet, there is no sign of the keyblade master. Saïx finds Axel in the labyrinthian basement, bruised and somewhat dazed. His golden eyes glitter mirthfully as he laughs quietly. Not even Saïx’s appearance is enough to dampen his mood (if that is what it is).

Axel’s still cackling when he says, “Let me guess. Xemnas decided to stick his _lapdog_ on me?” Saïx is so put off by the assassin’s strange behavior that the insult doesn’t affect him.

“You’re injured, possibly delirious.” Axel rolls his eyes and Saïx frowns. Vessel or no, Axel should not be displaying so much… _emotion._ “We should return to the castle. If you require it, I can help treat your wounds.”

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” Axel asks with a smirk. Slowly, he pulls himself from the wall he’d been leaning against, although he keeps one arm wrapped protectively around his middle. “Sorry, boytoy. No freebies today. I’ve got unfinished business I gotta take care of first.”

“No.” Demeanor notwithstanding, Axel is clearly injured. That, and the keyblade master might arrive at any minute. It is simply too great a risk. “You are Xehanort’s vessel, and as such cannot be allowed to expire for petty grievances,” Saïx adds. Axel does not immediately respond; instead he _looks_ at Saïx, quiet and calculating. A grin slowly spread across Axel’s features, however unlike before the expression seems entirely manufactured.

“ _Pft._ Guess Xig was right all along,” Axel mutters. He waves a hand in invitation. “C’mon then. It’ll be more _poetic_ this way, anyways.” Warily, Saïx follows Axel into the basement laboratories. “Larxene and Marluxia have already paid for their treason,” Axel tells him, “and _unfortunately_ , Lexaeus and Vexen were caught in the crossfire. As for Zexion—” Axel glances at Saïx. His eyes are flat, and colder than Saïx has ever seen them. “D’you remember what I said to him, back when he first… introduced us?”

_By the way, I’m gonna remember this._

Darkness appears before them, Zexion all-but stumbling out of the portal to brace himself against the far wall. He’s muttering to himself, however Saïx is too distracted to listen closely; Axel’s pressed his hand against the small of his back. A small gesture, but it’s almost too much for Saïx. Axel _never_ touches him.

Zexion spots them over his shoulder. “Saïx?” The young scientist tilts his head, momentarily confused until: “Oh. Oh, yes. The replica, of course. We can use the likeness of Riku’s master to defeat him.” As Zexion hobbles towards them, Saïx feels Axel push him forward. He takes a step, and Zexion falters. “Axel?”

“Wouldn’t you like to be real?” Axel asks, and Saïx finds himself nodding almost unconsciously. He’s so unaccustomed to Axel speaking to him in anything _other_ than anger or disgust that his cajoling tone is nearly hypnotic. “You’ll never be _him_ , not in a million years. But you can be someone else instead of being a poor imitation. You could be your _own_ self.” Saïx’s eyes widen. That is all he has ever wanted; to be real, and therefore worthy to hold and protect _Lea’s heart_ …

“Axel!” Zexion staggers forward, clearly alarmed. “What are you saying to him?”

“Didn’t I tell you, Zexion?” Even as Axel speaks Saïx lurches forward, taking Zexion by the throat and holding him aloft. Like old memories, dormant programming activates deep within Saïx, his replica body preparing to absorb new materials and data. Zexion flails and chokes, but Saïx is unaffected. If this is what it takes in order to be _real_ , then so be it.

Behind him, Axel laughs as if he’s _enjoying_ this. “A promise is a promise, after all.”


	2. lunatic

_"He doesn't smell right!" he exclaimed. "He isn't a rabbit at all! He isn't real!"_

_"I_ am _Real!" said the little Rabbit. "I am Real! The Boy said so!" And he nearly began to cry._

_Just then there was a sound of footsteps, and the Boy ran past near them, and with a stamp of feet and a flash of white tails the two strange rabbits disappeared._

_"Come back and play with me!" called the little Rabbit. "Oh, do come back! I_ know _I am Real!"_

_But there was no answer, only the little ants ran to and fro, and the bracken swayed gently where the two strangers had passed. The Velveteen Rabbit was all alone._

* * *

Castle Oblivion changes _everything_ , and yet so much remains the same.

Axel lied to him. Saïx knows that much, at least. Taking Zexion’s power for his own has not made him anymore real; he feels more ephemeral than ever, cloaked in the shadows as Axel grows closer to the boy and his puppet. He hears Axel call them his friends, his _best friends._ More lies.

What is friendship—or _love_ —without a heart?

Still, the keyblade wielders are dangerous, too unpredictable. _Too curious._ It is affecting Axel, the assassin behaving more erratically by the day. Saïx brings this to Xemnas, but the Superior will not listen to reason. Seated across from them, Xigbar is unusually silent as Xemnas dismisses Saïx’s concerns one by one.

“The power of the keyblade is borne from such bonds,” Xemnas tells him. Saïx feels the Superior’s rebuke like a whip and averts his eyes— _just like the well-trained_ dog _you are,_ he imagines Axel saying. “The will of Kingdom Hearts is absolute. Axel will heed its call, and so, too, will the keyblade wielders. Can you not hear it as well? Perhaps soon we will possess that which has eluded us—the path to the keyblade master’s heart.”

Xemnas dismisses them, and Saïx retreats to the Addled Impasse. _The will of Kingdom Hearts…_ Saïx is moonlight made flesh. Kingdom Hearts, _his heart,_ is his constant companion. His _true_ friend. Is it possible that Xemnas is deceiving them, furthering his own selfish desires under the guise of a prophet?

An indeterminate amount of time later Xigbar finds him, still skulking. “For what it’s worth, I agree with ya. Bu-u-ut,” the freeshooter sing-songs, “it’s no use telling him that. For a guy with so many plans, the boss is pretty short-sighted.”

“And yet, you serve as his vessel," Saïx replies, turning to face the older man. A single flaxen eye, the same hue as Axel’s, looks him over. “One would assume you share his agenda.”

Xigbar laughs, a mimicry of true amusement. “As if! I’ve got my own plans,” he says. Saïx grits his teeth; he is in no mood for cryptic half-truths. “Look. All I’m saying is, may your heart—”

“I do not possess a heart.” Not _yet_ , in any case.

“It’s a _metaphor_ , sheesh!” Xigbar rolls his eye. “What you and Red’ve got is different from what he has with the kiddos. The only difference between us and the Dusks are our human memories, and that’s what you are. His memories.” Xigbar points to his temple. “You’ll know what to do. When the time comes.”

Xigbar’s words leave Saïx feeling renewed, as if he has regained a sense of purpose. He _is_ memory, and with Zexion’s gifts he learns to wield perception like a fine blade. He starts small—Dusks and Higher Nobodies, who possess naught but traces of their humanity. He learns their language, and soon their whispers add to the bellows of Kingdom Hearts. Saïx passes through the shadows and into his comrade’s dreams, planting suggestions and seeds of doubt. Demyx remembers to fear Saïx, and Luxord no longer recalls Saïx’s origins.

Finally, Saïx’s manipulations turn toward the keyblade wielders. From what he has gleaned from Vexen and Zexion’s reports, the puppet was created to be a failsafe, in case the Key of Destiny proved to be uncontrollable. Like Saïx, it was constructed out of memories and was designed to replicate Thirteen’s abilities. It could even replace him, if need be.

Saïx initiates the replication process by assigning both it and the boy long and tedious missions. As each weakens, the puppet begins siphoning Roxas’s powers in order to sustain itself, although as far as Saïx can tell neither notices.

Although Saïx feels nothing for the boy and his puppet, he does regret how their waning strength affects Axel. Whatever strange mood possessed him in Castle Oblivion has not abated. Axel reports directly to Xemnas at the Superior’s command, but from the scraps of gossip Xigbar occasionally gives him, Saïx knows that the assassin has been ordered to deal with an imposter—one who wears the coat and has taken a keen interest in the young keyblade wielders. Axel’s missions keep him away for days at a time, and when he returns he’s noticeably agitated, barely able to control his fire. (They’ve lost nearly a dozen Dusks to Axel’s outbursts.)

Trapped in a world of endless night, Saïx measures time in cycles: attending to his duties and watching rapturously as Kingdom Hearts grows stronger, repeated over and over and _over_ again. Only Axel disrupts this rhythm, appearing here and there, increasingly volatile. He can no longer look Saïx in the eye, not even when he calls him names or curses his existence.

Once, Saïx finds Axel keeping vigil over the puppet after it breaks. (Again.) The assassin is hunched over, one gloved hand digging into his scalp while the other clutches his chest. “Stop, _please stop,_ ” he repeats, over and over again, eyes squeezed shut. The light of Kingdom Hearts shines down, and in his mind Saïx can hear _his heart,_ breaking. He takes a single step forward, and Axel whirls around, eyes blazing more orange than gold—closer to Xemnas’s shade, Saïx notices.

“ _Isa, please—_ ”

His words—his pleading tone— _sickens_ Saïx. The keyblade master _abandoned_ Lea, left him to suffer and expire without care or consequence. While Axel endured Vexen and Zexion’s experiments, _Master Isa_ chased his own glory. He didn’t try to save Axel, or even find out what had become of his childhood love.

Why cannot Axel see _him_ rather than that _traitor?_

Saïx turns and _runs_ , unable to see the devastation writ across Axel’s features as the disoriented Nobody whines, soft and childlike, “— _don’t leave me._ ”

The replica leaves the castle for the first time in months, roaming the streets until he finds a still-smoldering block where Kingdom Hearts shines down the brightest. There, awash in the pale moonlight, Saïx tips his head back and begs, pleads, and _prays_ for a keyblade. Xigbar was wrong; it’s not enough that Saïx is connected to Axel through his memories. He _needs_ the power of the keyblade or else Axel will slip from his grasp. All his efforts, reduced to ash and dust.

For hours nothing happens, and Saïx becomes increasingly frantic as his fingers curl around nothing over and over again. The world around him fades into a rhapsodic haze as he screams, chest and mind fit to burst with Kingdom Hearts’ strength, and still _nothing._ With a weak cry, Saïx falls to his knees, gasping for air.

_“Don’t give up.”_

Startled, Saïx whips his head back-and-forth, but he is alone. _Who—_

_He’s sitting cross-legged on Lea’s bed, a crumpled map strewn across his lap. He’s stared at this map so long he’s all-but memorized it, not that it makes any difference; they’re not making any progress. Isa’s forearms still sting from where they scraped against the rough stone the last time he and Lea were… “escorted” off the castle premises._

“It’s no use,” Isa, Lea, no— _Saïx_ says. “I’ll never be real. I am not… who you want me to be.”

 _“But you can be someone else instead of being a poor imitation.”_ More echoes. Axel, this time. _“You could be your_ own _self.”_

“My… own self.” Saïx looks down at his trembling fingers. “My— self. _Myself.”_

_"You are supplicant and servant of Kingdom Hearts, the extension of its will. How could I give to Axel what has always belonged to you?”_

Saïx stands, limbs oddly numb, almost as if it is _he_ who is the puppet. He holds his arms aloft, replica programming activating as it had with Zexion, except this time he attempts the impossible—he absorbs Kingdom Hearts. The pain is… indescribable. He screams until he is hoarse, and then until he is mute. The scar he inherited from another life pulses and aches terrifically, almost as if it has split open. Electric blue fire crackles as it envelops his shuddering frame, and in his hand… in his hand…

It is not a keyblade, but it _is_ a blade; long and weighty, with a sizable grip and a rounded, six-point debole that resembles Axel’s chakrams, except in blue and gold. The blade itself is jagged and glows with a soft ethereal light. Far above him, the moon rejoices. Saïx may not be real—not yet, at least—but this weapon, _this_ belongs to him, and him alone.

* * *

_"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."_

* * *

Saïx watches as the Superior collects the puppet, which dangles loosely from his arms as if all its strings were cut. He cloaks himself in the shadows, the memory of grim satisfaction just barely curling his lips. His patience is at last paying off. Fourteen has slowly taken form, a small brown-haired boy replacing its once-featureless face: _Sora_ , the keyblade master’s young apprentice and Roxas’s Other. It will not be long, now. Either the puppet or the boy will be eliminated, bringing Saïx that much closer to achieving his objective.

With each passing day, Kingdom Hearts grows stronger, and Saïx with it. Xemnas will not permit him to take missions, so Saïx seizes control of Lexaeus’s legion. The large Nobodies are excellent fodder, and under the moon’s watchful gaze Saïx learns to wield his blade. Soon, he will be even stronger than his Other; should they ever cross paths, Saïx will be prepared to keep what is rightfully his.

As it stands, Saïx is more than strong enough to bring Axel from where he lay, collapsed and unresponsive, to his Proof. Axel is lighter, less substantial than the last time they’d touched at Castle Oblivion. His already-thin physique borders on skeletal. Saïx pities him. “Always said your flair for dramatics would get you into trouble someday,” he says, a fond smile on his lips. No matter—soon everything will be as it was meant to be, right from the very beginning.

Saïx lays Axel down on his bed, awestruck at how the light of Kingdom Hearts lends Axel an otherworldly glow. Despite his frail appearance, Axel still _burns_ beneath his fingertips. Saïx cannot bring himself to let him go. Instead, he stretches out alongside Axel and cards his fingers through the Nobody’s fiery mane. Saïx has memories of doing this, but that was not _him_ —nor was it _Axel_. He traces his free hand down Axel’s arm, basking in the moon’s pale light and the deep-rooted sense of _rightness_ he feels.

Axel stirs, frowning ever-so-slightly as his eyes barely open. “I—” he croaks out, voice whisper-thin. “What’re you… you shouldn’t be here…”

Saïx blinks. He can hardly believe it. Axel has _never_ spoken to him like this, without malice or disgust. Has he proven himself at last? “Rest, Axel,” he replies. Axel struggles to open his eyes, and when he does the flaxen irises are glazed and confused. “You’re injured.”

“B-but, Xion—”

Saïx’s grip tightens, and Axel whines as his hair is accidentally pulled. “Do not concern yourself with the puppet,” Saïx says, soothing the sting. “You have no need for it, nor the boy. I will protect you.”

“Protect…” Axel sighs, eyes slipping closed once more. He is smiling, and Saïx feels an odd sensation swell within him. _Hope_ , his memories remind him. _This is hope._ “After all this— all this _time_ , you’re gonna protect me? Why?”

“Because you are mine, and I am yours.” Saïx traces his fingers down Axel’s face, caressing tattooed cheeks and cupping his delicate jaw. “Can you not sense it? The threads of fate have tied our destinies together. We are one and the same.”

“Y’know I don’t understand most of that mystical magical mumbo-jumbo,” Axel murmurs. His smile widens as his eyes blink open, and for a split-second Saïx swears they glisten _green._ “Just like when we were kids, huh?”

Saïx has less than a second to process Axel’s words— _we were never children together_ —before Axel leans forward and kisses Saïx. What begins soft and chaste soon becomes something _more_ as memories overtake Saïx. Axel tastes like cinnamon and smells like woodsmoke and _oh_ , Saïx could lose himself in this, clinging to Axel like a lifeline and swallowing his moans until—

_“I-Isa…”_

Saïx _jerks_ back, breath caught in his throat like he’s been _strangled._ Beneath him, Axel lays panting, kiss-swollen lips parted and shining. His eyes widen in shock, then _fury_ as his entire face contorts with rage. “GET OUT!” he screams as smoke fills the room, choking Saïx even more. The bedding catches fire. “GET OUT GET OUT GE-”

Axel’s shrieking descends into incoherence as Saïx stumbles out of his Proof in an electric frenzy. In the bedlam that follows, Saïx cuts down several Nobodies, even his own newly-chastened Berserkers. The moon _wails_ , sharp and sour as if it senses the poison lurking within its core. Seconds (or perhaps hours) later, Saïx’s wrath subsides and he retreats to the Addled Impasse. Still shaking, he crosses his arms and turns his back to the great Kingdom Hearts, unable to bear its magnificence when at its core, his heart— _Lea’s traitorous heart_ —resides.

A _broken vessel_ for a _defective toy_. How very fitting.

Footsteps echo, plodding closer until Saïx glimpses Roxas out of the corner of his eye. Another traitor. Once more, rage sparks to life within him as he tells the boy, “We don’t accept resignations.”

Roxas squares his shoulders, expression grim as he glares at Saïx. “I’ve got nothing to say to you,” the boy replies, voice so full of rage Saïx might almost think it real. The keyblade’s celestial song chimes as Roxas summons his weapon. The mere _sight_ of Thirteen’s accursed keyblade instinctively calls Lunatic—for that is what he has become—to Saïx’s hand.

“Why,” Saïx growls, “why did it choose _you?_ Why did _he—”_ Saïx’s voice gives out, Kingdom Hearts all-but _screaming_ its distress in his mind. Cold fire consumes him as the very _world_ around Saïx appears to glow.

Roxas says something, but Saïx cannot hear him over the din. All he knows is _betrayal._ Zexion, Xemnas, Roxas… Axel. Each of them has lied, forsaking their purpose and undermining _him_. The will of Kingdom Hearts, despoiled by unworthy fools.

Saïx draws himself to his full height, towering above Roxas with his claymore held in a reverse grip. “Let’s keep this short and sweet.” He rushes Roxas, but the boy darts away, countering with a quick spinning attack. Saïx screams moonlit rage as brilliant blue flames spread out with every step he takes, forcing Roxas into a defensive stance. But it does not last for long, for no matter his strength Saïx cannot overcome a weapon of the heart. Roxas moves too quickly, three swings for each of his own, and although Kingdom Hearts’ power is endless Saïx’s body cannot sustain it for long. He falls to his knees, Lunatic fading as he holds himself up with a single, trembling arm.

“How much longer…” Roxas sneers down at Saïx as he strides past, but Saïx no longer cares. The emptiness within him builds and builds. He is not real. _Will he ever be?_ “Kingdom Hearts, what must I do? Will your strength never be mine?”

Hours pass, and Saïx spends them _alone_ , broken and bleeding on the ground. No one comes for him. At last, he finds enough strength to crawl to his own Proof, dragging his injured body into the adjacent washroom to tend to his wounds. Saïx glances at the mirror, and growls. _Isa_ , the greatest traitor of them all, glares back at him.

He can still hear Axel’s voice, _so sweet_ , so unlike the vitriolic tone he’s grown used to. How long as Saïx waited— _dreamed_ for Axel to speak to him like that, just like in his half-forgotten memories?

 _Isa._ Saïx’s eyes narrow. Axel’s words, that sweet voice, _his kiss_ … they were not meant for Saïx. They belonged to _him._

“I’ll never be _him_.” At first, Saïx doesn’t realize that he’s spoken. His voice is quiet. But as the voices in his head grow louder— _“aw, what’s the matter doll-face?”_ —so too does Saïx. “I am not _him!_ ” His hair brushes his hands where they clench the sink’s porcelain rim. “I am… my _own_ self.”

Like a man possessed, Saïx reaches out, rifling through his carefully-organized vanity and uncaring over the mess he makes. Shaking, he takes a pair of shears meant for cutting and mending leather; imperfect, but adequate for his needs. Saïx mindlessly gathers his hair into one shaking hand, and with the other cuts an uneven line across. The sounds the scissors make as he opens and closes them is awful, but Saïx barely hears it over his own racing thoughts.

 _"You’ll never be_ him _, not in a million years.”_

“We are not the same!” At last, the shorn ends come free and Saïx’s hands fall to his sides. His chest is heaving, and when Saïx meets his eyes in the mirror once more, they _shine,_ utterly radiant. He is consumed, filled with manic energy as he smiles wickedly at his own reflection. Between the severed locks and the yellowed glint in his eyes, there can be no doubt. “I am real,” Saïx says, because at last _he is_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene at the end of this chapter was directly inspired by Nic [saixbosom's](https://twitter.com/saixbosom) incredible artwork, which you can see [at this link](https://twitter.com/saixbosom/status/1217444163609714692).


	3. for safe keeping

_Weeks passed, and the little Rabbit grew very old and shabby, but the Boy loved him just as much. He loved him so hard that he loved all his whiskers off, and the pink lining to his ears turned grey, and his brown spots faded. He even began to lose his shape, and he scarcely looked like a rabbit any more, except to the Boy. To him he was always beautiful, and that was all that the little Rabbit cared about. He didn't mind how he looked to other people, because the nursery magic had made him Real, and when you are Real shabbiness doesn't matter._

* * *

Predictably, Axel goes rogue. Screeching Assassins, each blackened by scorch marks, return semi-regularly at their master’s bidding with news. It is clear that Roxas’s betrayal was the death knell to Axel’s tenuous grip on reality. He’s completely destabilized, _promising_ that he can return the lost keyblade wielder to them despite Roxas having already joined his human Other, Sora. Saïx cannot tell if losing his _precious_ memories of the puppet slowed or accelerated Axel’s unraveling, but unfortunately he no longer has the luxury of frequent introspection. So few of them remain, now.

“ _Heh._ ” Saïx frowns as Xigbar approaches, the freeshooter interrupting one of his _very few_ moments of inactivity. His presence is not unexpected, however; with Xaldin and Demyx’s destruction, Xemnas has summoned the few remaining Organization members to the castle, where Saïx expects they will make their final stand. (Axel—of course—has ignored the order, but what else should one expect from an empty, traitorous shell?) Kingdom Hearts _must_ be completed, no matter the cost. Xigbar joins Saïx, eyebrow cocked as he gestures towards his crudely-shorn hair. “New look?”

“I have no time for idle chit-chat,” Saïx replies. “Nor do you.” He moves to leave, but a heavy hand lands on his shoulder, locking him in place.

“Who said anything about ‘idle’?And, no offense, but I’m not about to let you go around looking like _that_ ,” Xigbar says, as if _he_ is one to care about fashion. Still, Saïx cannot deny himself a brief respite; he doesn’t remember the last time he spoke to someone (or some _thing_ ) other than his Berserkers or Axel’s unfortunate Assassins. Saïx lets the older Nobody lead him to his Proof, taking a seat as Xigbar finds some scissors and a comb.

“The house is looking pretty empty, huh?” Despite the pleasant sensation of Xigbar’s fingers running over his scalp, Saïx tenses. The freeshooter pretends not to notice as he adds, “I thought I’d get a little enjoyment watching Axel throw another tantrum, but _man,_ talk about bad timing.”

Saïx’s fists clench. Ever since he first gave himself over to the moon’s pale light, he has struggled to keep its madness at bay. “Axel is a fool,” he growls, “chasing after the impossible. He cannot stand the emptiness of being without a heart, and it will be his demise.”

Xigbar hums absently, barely audible over the _snick-snip_ of the scissors. “Sounds like you’ve had a change of heart, _heh_ , no pun intended. What’d he do, to get _you_ so riled up?”

The freeshooter may be Saïx’s closest—if not sole—ally, but Saïx has learned that in the Organization, trust is a weakness. He changes the subject. “Tell me about the imposter.” Above him, Xigbar stills. “It’s _him_ , isn’t it?”

At first, Xigbar remains quiet, unduly focused on his self-appointed role as Saïx’s personal barber. Then, “Yeah, it’s him alright. He’s been hot on our trail for a few months now. Axel was _supposed_ to take care of him, but—” Xigbar chuckles without humor. “I think it’s fair to say he let himself get distracted.”

“He… has _poisoned_ Axel’s thoughts.” Saïx’s tone is venomous. “And in the process, he has turned Axel against us and our mutual objectives.”

Time brings clarity, and Saïx now understands the deeper significance of Axel’s unpredictable behavior, his simpering words, the false promise of his kiss… It was just as he warned Xemnas; the keyblade wielders softened Axel’s resolve, leaving him weak. Or, as Xigbar once said, _persuadable._

 _“Isa, please.” “After all this_ time, _you’re gonna protect me?” “Don’t leave me.”_

“Red’s got his own motives, same as all of us,” Xigbar says, “but I gotta admit, I didn’t see this coming. I figured that, with you here, Axel’d come around by now. Then again, what’s a Nobody like me know about the mysteries of the heart?”

“Don’t be absurd. Axel is heartless—”

“Is that so?” Saïx meets Xigbar’s eye in the mirror. For once, the freeshooter isn’t smiling. “The future’s already written, and there’s nothing you can do except cut your losses and move on.”

“And forsake our bond? Our shared memories?” Saïx asks. “I know my purpose and my place. I will not surrender Axel to our enemies. Even if it means…” Saïx trails off, and the weight of what has been left unsaid settles into an uncomfortable silence.

Xigbar sighs. “Your mind’s made up?”

“It is.” Saïx frowns. “You know something.”

The freeshooter sets down the comb and scissors. Without looking at Saïx, he says, “Axel nabbed one of the Princesses, the same one the keyblade master’s been training. I caught ‘em in Hollow Bastion. Axel ran off, but she’s down in the dungeons. It’s a matter of time until _someone_ comes for her.”

Breathing shallowly, Saïx feels the tides swell within him. He has endured so much in order to become real, but he can _never_ be whole so long as his Other continues to tempt _his heart_. He stands, pausing just long enough to take stock of Xigbar’s work. The older Nobody left the top unchanged, but cut the rest close. It gives him a stern appearance, which Saïx believes suits him. _Himself_.

He nods in thanks, and Xigbar returns the gesture. “Least I could do,” he says, and if it were anybody else Saïx might think the freeshooter sounds _sad_. “Now, show ‘em what you’re made of.”

Oh, Saïx _intends_ to.

From the Dusks, Saïx learns that Xigbar left the Princess under minimal guard, all-but inviting Axel or her _Master_ to retrieve her. Assassins slither up-and-down the hall as Saïx approaches the Soundless Prison, some even daring to attack him. They are quickly dealt with. From the shadows, Saïx can hear voices, muffled at first but becoming clearer as he comes closer.

“Roxas hasn’t _gone_ anywhere, Lea.” _That voice._ Saïx goes utterly still. “He’s back where he belongs, with Sora. Whole.”

“ _Psh,_ whatever,” Axel replies, casually flippant in a way that Saïx knows is fake. He’s wavering, Saïx can tell. “Everybody thinks they’re right—”

“This _is_ right…”

“Why are you _doing_ this to me!?” Axel shouts. The ambient temperature rises, and Saïx suspects Axel has lost control of his flames again. “They took my heart, but you— _you’ve_ taken everything else. Does it _satisfy_ you, keyblade master? Is this your idea of payback?”

“Listen to yourself, Lea! How could you let them reduce you to this?”

“Oh, _Isa_ , I’m hurt, really. I thought you _liked_ to hear me. What was it you said to me last time, I was a bit distracted by how good your fingers fe—”

“Don’t.” The keyblade master sounds furious. Saïx _knows_ the look Axel is giving him, that maddening smirk he makes whenever he’s in the mood to be especially cruel. Good. If Axel still wants to hurt the traitor, then perhaps Saïx is not too late.

However, even _that_ miniscule hope is crushed a moment later, when Saïx hears Axel whisper, “I’m so _tired_ , Isa. I just… want to forget all of this and go back to the way things used to be.”

“Then come with us,” Isa begs. “Come _home._ With me. Ansem the Wise left everything behind. With that, and Naminé’s help, you can be whole again, too.” Saïx hears the choked noise that escapes Axel’s throat, and knows he’s been stunned into silence. Lunatic materializes in his grip. Even in the depths, the moon shines down.

“I cannot return all the years Xehanort has stolen from us, but I can give you this.” Saïx creeps closer, until at last he sees _his_ face. Disgust twists his features. This is _Isa_ , the keyblade master? This wretched man, weeping like a child, is the source of Axel’s pitiful obsessions?

“Isa, I—” Axel begins, but Isa interrupts him with a single gesture. Closer now, Saïx feels the moon’s furor like a siren’s song. For Axel to be so quickly calmed, so easily cowed into submission… he is already lost. Saïx sees it, in the slump of his shoulders and the loose curl of his fingers—Axel has surrendered.

_“You’ll know what to do. When the time comes.”_

“Lea, _please._ ” Isa reaches toward Axel with a single, trembling hand. The subtle shift in the Nobody’s hips tells Saïx that Axel _will_ take that hand. The moment lingers as a solemn silence takes hold. Saïx’s grip tightens.

They have _no idea_ how close he’s gotten.

"I’ve held onto it for so long,” Isa says. Saïx narrows his eyes. More lies. He swings Lunatic back as Isa adds, “Let me give you your heart, back where it belongs.”

Axel holds out his hand, and Isa smiles, bright and relieved. They’re nearly touching. “Thank good—”

It happens quickly and without fanfare. Lunatic passes through Axel as if he is _nothing_ , and with a soft cry—

“Isa…?”

—Axel _becomes_ nothing.

As the smoke and ash settles, Saïx thinks he tastes a hint of cinnamon. He savors it as he at last comes face-to-face with the keyblade master, the traitorous imposter: _Isa._

His Other’s eyes widen in shock and horrified disbelief. “Who—” he asks, tears streaming down his cheeks even as anger twists his oh-so-familiar features. “What have you done?!”

Saïx smirks, Lunatic held in reverse grip as he relaxes into a battle stance. Oh, how he has _longed_ for this. “I did what had to be done,” he replies. Wisps of darkness curls around Isa as a massive red-and-blue keyblade appears in his still-outstretched hand. In contrast to his earlier battle with Roxas, Saïx knows how this will end. Becoming real taught him as much. He is nothing more than memories, a pale reflection of the sun. It was never a question of strength, but rather _loyalty_. Saïx and Isa are not the same.

Isa abandoned Lea. Saïx will not leave Axel to oblivion.

Saïx smiles, and it is Real. “I won’t forget you,” he promises. His heart is waiting.

* * *

_"I am the nursery magic Fairy," she said. "I take care of all the playthings that the children have loved. When they are old and worn out and the children don't need them any more, then I come and take them away with me and turn them into Real."_

_"Wasn't I Real before?" asked the little Rabbit._

_"You were Real to the Boy," the Fairy said, "because he loved you. Now you shall be Real to everyone."_

* * *

Saïx did not expect to wake, and yet, here he is. Alive ( _somehow_ ) and staring down at a young man who calls himself Xemnas, or rather, _Xehanort_ —Xemnas’s Other. He also claims to be from the past, which Saïx accepts without question or complaint. No matter how convoluted the story, he doubts he will be asked whether or not he wants to participate in Xehanort’s scheme.

Thus, he is blindsided when the young Xehanort tells him, “Our Kingdom Hearts is no more, torn asunder and lost to the endless Dark. What can Master Xehanort— what can _I_ offer you in exchange for your body and soul?”

For the entirety of his brief existence, all Saïx wanted was to be real. But, now that he _is_ real, he wants more. Now, Saïx wants to be _whole._ “I will do whatever you ask,” he pledges. “But in return, I will have _his_ heart.”

Xehanort smiles. “So be it.” A sharp, burning _pain_ brings Saïx to his knees as he is invaded. _Possessed._ His new replica body shudders as it is forced to accommodate minor physical alterations, stinging in his eyes and ears. When it is over, Saïx rises with a new purpose, Kingdom Hearts’ distant cries still echoing in his mind. Xehanort leads him to another castle in yet another world— _Radiant Garden_ , he remembers—where Xigbar finds them, _Lea_ still unconscious in his arms.

“Guess I was wrong about you,” Xigbar mutters as Saïx takes Lea from him. “Must be destiny after all.” The man—and he is a man, at least for now—sounds wistful, but Saïx is not listening. All he hears is the _ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump_ of Lea’s heartbeat, locked beneath his breastbone.

“I will protect you,” Saïx whispers, holding Lea close as he kneels on the floor. The younger Xehanort waits, keyblade ready, as Saïx traces the chain of memories that connect them. Were it not for Xehanort’s influence and the moon’s blessing, he would repeat Zexion’s failure. Still, it takes time, and distantly Saïx hears Xigbar complaining, but eventually he finds each and every one of Lea’s memories of _Isa_ and locks them inside Lea’s sleeping heart. Then, with a solemn nod, Xehanort sets his keyblade to Lea’s chest and sets him free.

Axel is reborn in Saïx’s arms. Real, at last.

Saïx accepts that his newfound happiness is fleeting, at best. As soon as Xehanort has his thirteen vessels, their plans will be set into motion. Each vessel will be sacrificed for the glory of Kingdom Hearts and the reforging of the X-blade, and Saïx and Axel will cease to exist. Until then, however, Saïx honors his promise to Axel from a lifetime ago: to protect him, and to never leave his side. And at night, when Axel sleeps, Saïx weaves the most beautiful dreams for him; where Axel once gave him nightmares, Saïx gives Axel the sweetest lies imaginable.

Indeed, Saïx often wonders if he is dreaming, _if he is even alive at all._ This new existence is so unlike his previous life, almost too good to be real. Even when the keyblade wielders spoil their efforts to take young Sora for the thirteenth vessel, Saïx cannot help the satisfaction that blooms in his borrowed heart when Axel crosses blades with Isa with nary a _flicker_ of recollection. Isa’s pathetic pleas for _Lea, Lea,_ Lea, _what’s happened to you_ had no effect whatsoever on Axel, who stared at his Other blankly. Utterly dispassionate.

Later, Saïx finds Axel in Twilight’s View, brows furrowed as he looks down at his open, empty hands. He doesn’t greet Saïx when the replica approaches like he typically does, saying instead, “I feel like I’m missin’ something. Like I’m not complete, somehow.”

Saïx takes Axel’s hands into his own, relishing the fact that Axel lets him. “To be a Nobody, as you are, is to be incomplete.” It is regrettable, Saïx privately laments, that Axel must be kept like this so that Saïx can be whole. His dreams will be extra sweet tonight, he decides, full of sunsets and sea-salt.

“I _know_ that,” Axel snaps, although it lacks any fire. His hands remain limp in Saïx’s hold, and he bites his lip before adding, “It’s just— Sometimes, when I look at you, I feel like I’m seein’ someone else. It’s like I’ve forgotten something, but I can’t remember what it was.”

“Axel.” The Nobody’s gaze lifts to Saïx’s, gold meeting gold. “Listen to yourself. You’re exhausted, and this—” Saïx’s fingertips glide across Axel’s temple, and he smiles as Axel relaxes into his touch “—is not helping. Think no more of it.”

With a sigh, Axel presses too-dry lips against his palm. “Alright.” His eyes slip shut. “Just… promise me, Saï. Promise you won’t leave me?”

“I will never leave you, Axel. I will keep you, always.”

* * *

_And while he was playing, two rabbits crept out from the bracken and peeped at him. One of them was brown all over, but the other had strange markings under his fur, as though long ago he had been spotted, and the spots still showed through. And about his little soft nose and his round black eyes there was something familiar, so that the Boy thought to himself:_

_"Why, he looks just like my old Bunny that was lost when I had scarlet fever!"_

_But he never knew that it really was his own Bunny, come back to look at the child who had first helped him to be Real._

* * *

“It sounds to me like you’ve got everything dependably under control.”

“The plan, as we agreed upon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene where Saïx attacks Axel was inspired by Nic [@Saïxbosom’s](https://twitter.com/Sa%C3%AFxbosom) phenomenal artwork, which you can find [at this link](https://twitter.com/Sa%C3%AFxbosom/status/1198983558418718721).
> 
> For those of you who have been following this fic over on [my twitter](https://twitter.com/radovanryn), thank you so much for all your encouragement and enthusiastic support. I hope you enjoy the, um, “happy ending” I promised. ;) 
> 
> I adore writing in the Master Isa AU, and snuck in a lot of canon parallels and my own headcanons throughout this piece. Did you notice a couple of them? Let me know in the comments, or @ me [on twitter at radovanryn](https://twitter.com/radovanryn). Kudos and likes are hugely appreciated, and if you have any questions about this fic or any of the other random craziness I think up send me a question on [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/radovanryn).
> 
> <3 illia


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